










a^se^ 






\n^ 




^/ 



?^ 







Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year ISGO, 

BY nOWAED -WADTW-EIGHT, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 

Southern District of New York. 



THIS LITTLE VOLUME OF 



RHYMINGS 



S AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO 



MY DEAR MOTHER. 



r 



CONTENTS. 

PAGK 
JOY BELLS, ........ 7 

CUPID AND PSYCHE, . . . . . . 12 

LONG AGO, ........ 14 

THE LYRE OF LOVE, . . . . . . 1 6 

ANIMA MEA, . . . . . . . I8 

TO DELILAH, . . . . . . . 1 9 

DE PROFUNDIS CLAMAVI, . . , . •23 

THE SEWING GIRL's SONG, ..... 26 

ABSENCE, ........ 27 

THE BLIND BOY TO HIS BROTHER IN CHURCH, . 29 

A FAREWELL, ....... 3O 

THE BROOK, ....... 33 

WED NOT FOR GOLD, . . . . . '35 

" I BRING THEE, LOVE, NO COSTLY GEMS," . . 38 



6 Contents. 

PAGE 
FALSE CHARITY, ....... 40 

*' NEVER DESPAIR," ...... 45 

** I SAW HER FIRST AMID A THRONG," . . -47 

THE FORSAKEN, . . . . . . 5 I 

OUR FATHERS, . . . . . . -52 

THE FUTURE, ....... 54 

THE TEMPLE OF WAR, AND THE TEMPLE OF PEACE, . 58 

A COMETARY, . . . . . . . 6 I 

THE SEXTON, ....... 64 

A SERENADE, ....... 68 

NAIL OUR FLAG TO THE MAST, . . . -JO 

SPRING TIME, ....... 73 

THE YACHTMAn's SONG, . . . . -75 

SAM, ........ 77 

TEDDY o'mURPHY, . . . . . '79 

SONGS, ETC., FROM RIP VAN WINKLE, . . 8 1 



R H Y M I N G S 




JOY BELLS. 

ARK to the merry bells. 
As in yon tall tower they ring ; 
What is the tale their mufic tells ? 
What is the fong they fmg ? 
Knell! Knell! Knell! 
Lift to the fong of the bell, 
"Whoever thou art ; 
Of a breaking heart 
And blighted hopes we tell." 

"Enter in at the porch," 
The joy-bells feem to fhout, 
'Tis an audion-room, and not a church. 
Though no red flag hangs out. 



Joy Bells. 

Sold! Sold! Sold! 

The tale has been often told — 

Body and heart. 

Like a flave at the mart. 

Bartered away for gold. 

In bridal garb arrayed. 
Though the rofe from her cheek has fled. 
At the altar-foot Hands a lovely maid. 
And wilhes fhe were dead ! 
Tears ! tears ! tears ! 
Heart tears, though the lids are dry : 
There's hell in the foul of that maiden fair- 
On her pallid lips a he. 

With eyes all glafly and dull. 

By her fide a grey-beard old. 

Of figures his head hke a ledger full. 

His heart a lump of gold. 

Oh, man, with fifter dear. 

Oh, man, with mother and wife, 

'Tis not a bridal you witnefs here. 

But — the death of a fair young life. 

He, who had won her heart. 
In happy days gone by. 



Joy Bells. 

Now llandeth in the gloom apart. 
All fad and mournfully. 
Crulhed! Cruflied ! Crufhed ! 
For a little golden dull. 
His joys all fled. 
His hopes all dead, 
A noble fpirit loft. 

Sold is that fair young thing — 

If not her heart, her hand ; 

Alas ! what power could ftie bring 

Againft a fire's command ? 

Bartered away and fold. 

Body and heart, for gold — 

Bartered away. 

To that dotard grey. 

For the damning greed of gold. 

There flde by lide they ftand. 
Repeating the vows by turns ; 
He places a ring on that marble hand. 
And the hoop, hke fire, burns. 
Love ! Honor ! Obey ! 
Say the lips, but the heart is dumb. 
She fain would weep, flie tries to pray. 
But nor prayers nor tears will come. 
1* 



Joy Bell s. 

Behind the altar-rail. 

In accents fweet and clear. 

Binding for aye that curfed falc. 

Stands the reverend audlioneer. 

Going ! Going ! Gone — 

The deed is quickly done 

By that plain gold ring ; 

Winter and Spring 

For life, are joined in one. 

Prayed is the lafl fhort prayer. 

And — joyous fight to fee — 

The minifter, blefTing the happy pair. 

Pockets his golden fee. 

Sold! Sold! Sold! 

Let the bells be fadly tolled. 

Better to knell 

For a funeral. 

Than a barter of hearts for gold. 

Gone is the bridal-train. 
But the bells, with their filver tone. 
Still echo through the facred fane 
As I Hand there alone. 



JoyBells. II 



Knell ! Knell ! Knell ! 
'This feems the fong of the bell : 
Some bridals are made 
In heaven, 'tis faid. 
But this was forged in hell.'' 



CUPID AND PSYCHE. 

AY-DREAM of youth, children of Love and 
G^ Spring, 

^jJ/\ Buds zephyr-culled from Heaven's ccleftial 
Bowers, 
Now fallen to earth, but llainlefs^wandering 
Through this cold, heartlefs, lovelefs world of ours ; 
Ah ! know ye not the bud muft change to flower. 
The flower wither ere the day grows old. 
Your goflamer woof of love hath not the power 
To guard from burning noon, from evening cold. 

The morning fliars pale with the fun's awaking ; 
The morning fkies blufli with his coming ray ; 
The morning-glories, dew-drops from them fliaking. 
Wither and droop, and clofe at early day. 



Cupid and Psyche. 13 

The matin long of birds from nefl upfpringing. 
Wakes us from dreams of happy coming years ; 
Their vefper chaunts now tremuloufly fmging. 
Echo 'mid cyprefs boughs, of woe and tears. 

Then cull your flowers while the dawn Hill lingers. 

Dream love-dreams ftill, ye'll waken all too foon ; 

Hid 'neath the leaves, fliarp thorns will pierce your 

fingers ; 
Bloflbms and dreams will vanilh ere the noon ; 
The tempefl wrack fliall cloud the iky ere even ; 
The lightning rend the giant oak in twain ; 
Wand'rers from Paradife, fly back to Heaven, 
There feek, there find eternal love again. 




LONG AGO. 

OST thou remember, lady fair. 
The willow by the river fide ? 
One eve we fat together there 

You promifed to become my bride. 
But flay, fair lady, fpeak it not,— 

Thy anfwer I already know ; 
Thofe happy hours are all forgot. 
For it was very long ago. 

Doft call to mind the grafly lane. 

All hidden in the httle grove, — 
Can memory bring it back again ? 

'Twas there I told thee of my love ! 
Thy wilhng hand was clafped in mine. 

Thy lips, — fay, did they anfwer No ? 
'Tis paft ! and why Ihould I repine, — 

For it was very long ago. 



Long Ago. 

Doft call to mind the trembling kifs 

I prefled upon thy burning cheek ? 
Haft thou forgot the words of blifs 

Thine eyes did look, thy voice did fpeak ? 
Nay, lady, do not weep ! Thy tears 

Have now no right for me to flow. 
I thought to fhare thy hopes and fears, — 

But it was very long ago. 

The willow by the ftream is dead. 

The grafly lane, the grove, both gone, — 
And thou art to another wed ! 

I wander through the world alone. 
Yet oft unbidden burfts a figh. 

And down my cheeks in forrow flow 
The tears I weep for days gone by. 

And memories of long ago. 




THE LYRE OF LOVE. 

" Qe\<t} Xeyeiv ArpeiSas." 

Anaceeon. 

STRIVE to fing of many a theme. 
As o'er the firings my fingers move, 
gl^^ But hufhed and filent is the ftream 
Of mufic, till my fong is Love. 

To lay of Sorrow firil I ftruck 

The lyre that once breathed mufic fweet. 

Each chord, when touched, that inftant broke,— 
It would not e'en one note repeat. 

Ambition next for theme I chofe. 
But filent flill the lyre remained ; 

It feemed as if in Death repofe 

Each breathlefs found and chord was chained. 



The Lyre of Love. 17 

I'll iing of Friendfliip, then I faid. 

This theme at leaft will break the charm ; 

The lyre at Frieridihip's call was dead, — 
E'en this the fpell could not difarm. 

Joy ! Thou fhalt wake my fong, I cried, — 

In vain ! no melody was there ; 
The ftubborn harp a moment fighed. 

Then ceafed, as if in mute defpair. 

One effort more, — of Love I'll fmg. 

Again the tunelefs lyre I'll try ; 
I took the harp, I touched the string, 

Acrofs the wires my fingers fly ; 

And then in wild, ccftatic fire. 

The mufic ran the chords along ; 
I whifpered, as I kiffed the lyre. 

Henceforth I'll fmg no other fong. 




ANIMA MEA. 

SK me not why I love thee, 'twere as well 
Queftion the rofes why they love the rain ; 
Or bid the trailing morning-glories tell 
Why, when the Orient Heaven puts on again 
Its rainbow tabard, heralding the day. 
They ope their petals, heavy with the dew. 
Anima Mea, I can only fay. 
My waking foul rofe upward in the blue 
Ether of thy dear prefence, from the earth. 
Where it had lain like fky-lark through the night 
Of all my former life ; and, breaking forth 
In ecftafies of fuch a new delight. 
It could but mount and fmg ; what though the heaven 
Were far too diftant for its flagging wing. 
And it muft, drooping, fall to earth ere even ; 
What though pad joys are fadly vanilhing. 
And tempeil clouds drive 'twixt me and the plain, 
I ne'er can find my meadow-neft again. 




TO DELILAH. 

ES ! all are here, the once prized gifts. 
Now valuelefs as withered flowers ; 
And Mem'ry for a moment Hfts 

The curtain from that paft of ours. 
That paft, when, as before fome flirine. 
Where but the holieft vows are given, 
My heart, to that falfe heart of thine 

Knelt. down and prayed, methought to Heaven. 

Aye, prayed to Heaven ! my love for thee 

A flight of rainbow fteps did feem, 
Down which God's Angels came to me 

And whifpered, as in Jacob's dream. 
The dream is paft — the flumber o'er ; 

Around me, but a defert plain ; 
Thou art, what thou hadft been before. 

And I — well, I am free again. 



20 To Delilah. 

Allj faid I ? No ! thou haft retained 

The only things I craved of thee ; 
Oh give them back again ; tho' ftained. 

They are of pricelefs worth to me. 
Yes, here the book, and here the gem 

Lefs beauteous and lefs falfe than thou. 
Ah ! why didft not return with them 

The ardent hopes, all vanifhed now. 

Oh, giv^e again thofe ardent hopes. 

Loft beacons of my wafted years ; 
Bereft of them, the future opes 

A barren wafte, all mift and tears. 
Give back the truth I plighted thee ; 

Give back the trufting Love I gave ; 
Or ftiipwrecked on life's ftormy fea, 

I fmk beneath the o'crwhelming wave. 

And thou wouldft have me, too, return 

Each record of thofe happy days ? 
Well doft thou know that I would fcorn 

To treafure ftill thefe mockeries ? 
I fend thee each material trace 

Of what thou wert, of what thou art ; 
Would 'twere as eafy to efface 

And blot thine image from my heart. 



T o Del I LAH. 21 

Here is the trefs of golden hair 

I took from off thy fnowy brow ; 
Is not the kifs ftill lingering there ? 

Doll thou not feel it burning now ? 
Thou may'ft erafe that kifs no more 

Than human hand can wafh the blood 
Of murder'd Rizzio from the floor 

Of Mary's bower in Holy Rood. 

Oh ! I am powerlefs to deal 

With hfe, for thou haft made me weak. 
Thy kifs, Delilah, ftill I feel. 

Thy lying kifs upon my cheek. 
Yet ftill from Humber I awake. 

And hurl this thraldom from my mind ; 
Thus, traitrefs, thus thy bonds I break. 

And thank my God I am not blind. 

What's this ? a tear ! well, let it fall, 

'Tis not the firft, 'twill be the laft : 
And with it, now I banilh all 

My thought of thee, thine hour is paft ! 
'Twas near two thoufand years ago — 

The tale is old ; haft thou not read 
How Judas bought perdition so. 

And with a kifs his Lord betrayed ? 



22 ToDeLILAH. 

Room for the Leper ! tho' the crowd 

May yield due homage to thy Hate, 
And cringe and fmile, in anguilh bowed 

Thy foul ihall fit without the gate. 
Perchance thou may'st conceal thy Ihame, 

Poor leman, from the world unseen. 
Thy heart fhall utter flill the same 

Foul leper's cry, *' Unclean ! unclean ! " 

Thou hadft thy price, and it is paid ; 

That peerlefs form of thine is fold. 
Hearts were not mentioned in the trade. 

They fell for love, — but thou for gold. 
Bought is thy life — thy hand — thy face, — 

A perjured vow — a ring — and then 
Bought is each loving, fond embrace ; 

Thou'rt but a wedded Magdalen. 

I almoft pity thee thy fate, 

Life fettered, like a galley-flave ; 
In anguifh thou shalt feek, too late. 

Some power to fuccor and to fave. 
Too late on earth ; the anointed feet 

Need not thy tears, thy golden hair ; 
He fits upon the mercy feat — 

Perchance thou'lt find forgivenefs there. 




DE PROFUNDIS CLAMAVI. 

OME, home at laft. 

Weary and cold. 

Poor, weak, and old. 

Bending beneath the weight of forrows paft, 
BHnd to the gifts of mercy manifold. 
Looking out on the vaft 
Unfathomable ocean of To Come. 
Hopes now all vanifhed, earthly joys all paft. 
Groping with outftretched arms amid the gloom. 
And clouds of doubt hung round for auguries 
Of that dear promife, which upon the Crofs 
Our Saviour gave the fmner at his fide. 
Our Saviour, mine ! yes, 'twas for me He died. 
In that dread hour he hears the fmner*s cries ; 
In that dread hour he liftens, and replies, 
^'Thou art forgiven. 
Count other gain but lofs. 



24 De Profundis Clamavi, 

With faltering footfteps follow me to Heaven ; 
Turn from the earth, look upward to the fkies. 
To-day thou'It be with me in Paradife." 

Home, home at laft. 
Weighed down with pain ; 
The dull and travel (lain 
Of wafted years hang heavy on my brow ; 
Earth's choiceft gifts but duft and afhes now. 
Bending beneath a burthen I would fain 
Lay at His feet whofe vaft 
And boundlefs mercy held me up fo long ; 
Yet at thofe bleeding feet I dare not caft 
My heavy load. Were they not pierced for me ? 
Did he not hang upon the 'curfed tree ? 
Redeeming me ; while I — I held the ipear 
That pierced His fide ; 
I crowned the reed with gall ; 
I mocked and fcourged, reviled and crucified ; 
And dare I now at this laft hour call 
On Him for aid, now at the fet of fun. 
My work time over, and the daylight gone ? 
When in my hand, fole offering, I bring 
A buried talent to my God and King ? 
Dying on Crofs, the Saviour ftill replies, 
"To-dav thou'It be with me in Paradife." 



De Profundis Clamavi. 25 

Home, home at laft. 
Humbly repenting. 
Father, relenting. 

Take to thy arms again an erring fon, f'" 

At my great finfulnefs Hand not aghaft. 
Jefus, my Saviour, be thou, too, confenting : 
Thou who didft tell the Prodigal's return. 
I have fadly pafled 

The years fmce £rft I left thee, wandering far 
From Home and Thee, without the guiding ftar 
Of thy dear teachings ; — heavinefs and pain 
Have travelled with me ; now I come again. 
Praying thy pardon for the gifts I've walled, 
Afking forgivenefs for the ill-fpent years. 
Brimming with fweetnefs feemed the cup I tailed. 
But oh ! the dregs were bitternefs and tears. 
Canft thou forgive me ? 
See me humbly kneeling ; 
Jefus, my Saviour, oh again receive me, 
Liilen to my agonized appealing ; 
I read thy promife on the weftern fkies, 
'* To-day thou'lt be with me in Paradife." 
2 




THE SEWING GIRL'S SONG, 

EARILY, wearily ftitching, 
^ From morning till late in the night. 

To make fome young lady bewitching, 

Whofe heart, beating light 
'Neath the robe that we few. 
Never, never will know. 
Why the tiflue fo bright 
Is dimmed here and there. 
And perchance would not care 
Were fhe told that our tears 
Make each fpot that appears 
Like a ftain on the ftufF. 
But enough, girls, enough ; 
Your needles keep plying. 
We are not paid for crying. 



ABSENCE. 

USHED is my harp, as o'er its unftrung chords 
My fingers idly fweep, the burning words 
Q^Q ) That echo in my heart, vainly eflay 

To murmur on my lip. Through the long day 
My flagging mind is powerlefs but to turn 
And dream of vaniflied joys. I can but mourn 
Thy abfence, as we mourn the flowers departed. 
And fummer pall:. I thought to be ftrong-hearted. 
When thou wert gone, and hurry back again 
To the cold world. But vain the fliruggle, vain 
Are all my efforts. Round me is a fpell 
Like that with which the moon, as poets tell. 
Guides every motion of the fl:ormy fea ; 
So in my thought I can but follow thee ; — 
And as, when all around is raylefs night. 
In one long golden line of love and light 
The moon is mirrored in its heaving breaft. 
So in my heart thy image is imprefled. 



28 Absence. 

Pale Dian calmly fits enthroned on high, 

Peerlefs amid the ftars, while toward the fky 

The Tea lifts up its waves as if in prayer, 

Afking a fmile, and fhe all coldly there 

Looks down imconfcious. Lady, did the gleam 

Of thy dark eyes upon thy lover beam 

As coldly bright ? Or did their lids conceal 

How much, though calm the brow, the heart could 

feel ? 
As the poor cripple, through long weary years 
Of pain and anguifh lay, 'mid hopes and fears. 
Waiting the Angel-vifitant to cool 
And ftir the waters of Bethefda's pool, 
Whofe troubled wave fhould give him health once 

more — 
Thus my lone heart fits idly by the fliore 
Of the dim future, waiting thy return ; 
And when on weftern hills at funfet, burn 
Beacons of bright To-morrows, toward the fky 
My eyes I turn ; and when I fee on high 
'Mid twihght's gloom the crefcent moon appear, 
I dream the pool is flirrcd, the angel draweth near. 




THE BLIND BOY TO HIS BROTHER 
IN CHURCH. 



AM not blind, dear Brother, now. 
For, though I cannot fee — 

Though darknefs overfpreads my brow- 
The Gofpel fhines for me. 

Lift, Brother, hft ! each holy word 

Is graven on my mind ; 
I could not fee, but then I heard, — 

Brother, I am not blind ! 

Father ! to whom all fupphants kneel, 

I afk not worldly fight ; 
Oh, hear a poor Wind boy's appeal 

For more of Heavenly light ! 




A FAREWELL. 

AREWELL ! Farewell! I fcarce can bring 
My trembling lips to fpeak the word ; 
Its hated accents feem to ring 

Like funeral chimes by mourners heard ; 
It drags me from the dreamy paft, — 
Of buried hopes it tolls the knell. 
And happinefs retreats aghaft 

Before the dreaded word — ^Farewell ! 

No more of love, no more of home. 

No more of every joy I prize. 
The parting hour at length has come. 

And even friendfhip withering dies. 
No more ! What thoughts of deep defpair 

Thofe bitter words of anguifh tell ! 
No hope of future refling there. 

To light the fadnefs of Farewell ! 



^ A Farewell. 31 

Adieu ! To thee I will not fpeak 

Of what I fancied once jnight be, — 
'Twould bring a blulh upon thy cheek. 

In pity for my mifery. ^" 

I will not claim the fmgle tear 

Thou couldfl: not hide, were I to tell 
Of what thou need'll not, muft not, hear, — 

'Tis whifpered in this lafl: Farewell ! 

Perchance, when ocean rolls between, 

Thou'lt fometimes kindly think of one. 
Forgetting what he would have been,- — 

Remember only he is gone. 
Perchance, when all around feems gay. 

Thy thoughts may for a moment dwell 
On him who muft not, dare not ftay. 

But bids thee now a laft Farewell ! 

Adieu ! adieu ! I meant to go 

With changelefs cheek and tearlefs eye. 
Nor deemed 'twould wring my fpirit fo. 

To fpeak one little word — Good-bye ! 
I thought to wear a carelefs fmile. 

And with a merry laugh to tell — 
Although my heart fhould break, the while — 

Some idle jeft, and then — Farewell ! . 



32 A Farewell. 

Yet, fare thee well ! I ne'er fhall bend 

My knee at morn and eve in prayer. 
But fupplications fhall afcend 

For thee to Heaven, entreating there 
That angel hands may round thee twine 

A wreath of happinels, a fpell 
Of funny hours, that conftant fliine. 

Nor ever bid, as I, Farewell ! 




THE BROOK. 

LASHING, dafhing, comes the rill. 
Rumbling, tumbling, down the hill. 
Swollen with the winter fnows. 
Swifter on its courfe it goes. 
Flinging gems on bufh and fprav, 
As it pafles on its way 
To the ice-encumbered river. 
Where its drops are loft forever 
In the fwollen tide that runs 
To the South, where tropic funs. 
While it knows not of its danger. 
Warm to melt the northern ftranger. 
Stopping, as it comes along. 
To repeat its little fong. 
In the pool it loves to linger. 
While Jack Froft, with fairy finger. 



34 TheBrook. 

Strives to bind it in his net. 

Fain would lead it to forget 

That it ftill mull on, though weary. 

On, through the world, though cold and dreary. 

On, though it leaves all joy behind it ; 

On, though the Sirens llrive to bind it ; 

To the great Gulf it ftill muft flee, — 

The river of Eternity. 




WED NOT FOR GOLD. 

OULDST wed for gold ? Seek yonder palace- 
J) gate. 

Where liveried menials at the entrance wait ; 
They guard the porch 'gainll all of low degree. 
But thou, unfeen, fhalt enter there with me. 
And learn a leflbn from a gilded page ; 
Too true the tale it tells, from age to age. 
Of wealth and mifery joining hand in hand. 
See yonder lady fair ; would'il underftand 
Why on her youthful brow that fhadow refts ? 
Can it be true that aught of grief molells 
One who is miftrefs of a home like this ? 
What ! can not riches buy e'en earthly blifs ? 
Fool ! lift the moral that this fcene imparts : 
She purchafed wealth — with what — two broken hearts ! 
Scarce one fhort year ago, a youthful pair 
Plighted their troth, and fwore through life to fhare. 
Whether for weal or woe, a mutual lot ; 



36 Wed NOT FOR Gold. 

But wealth came riding by, and Ihe forgot 

Her faith, his love ; alas ! poor girl, fhe fold 

His earthly happinefs, her Heaven, for gold ! 

Where is he now, that poor heart-broken boy ? 

When he beheld his all of earthly joy 

Gone, gone for ever with the rich man's bride, — 

The church-yard tells the mournful tale — " he died." 

And is flie happy now ? No ; every fcene 

She looks upon but tells what might have been. 

Though decked in coftly filks and fatins rare. 

Though pricelefs jewels glitter in her hair. 

Though bleffed with every thing that wealth can buy. 

Still, is ihe happy ? Lift the ftifled figh 

Burfting unbidden from her aching breaft ! 

It fometimes finds a voice, though oft repreifed ; 

And in that figh a truthful tale is told : 

Go, write it on thy heart, then wed for o^^l^ ' 



Wouldft wed for gold ? Seek yonder humble cot ; 
There wealth and mifery are alike forgot ; 
Wide open ftands the hofpitable door. 
And welcome he who enters, rich or poor ; 
Contentment fmiles around with homely grace; 
Here jaundiced Avarice with fafFron face 
Would e'en forget his hoards of yellow duft. 
And give his miUions, could he fhare the cruft 



Wed not for Gold. 37 

That honeft labor renders ever Iweet, 

(Not always fuch the luxuries of the great). 

See from his daily toil the cotter come : 

Full well he knows the loved one waits him home ; 

Little cares he to fhare the rich man's part. 

His mine of wealth is one true woman's heart ; 

Like thofe twin ftars that mariners defcry 

When looking Heavenward in the northern fky. 

They feek the Polar Star to track their way 

O'er pathlefs feas, but, left they wandering ftray 

And choofe fome other orb, the Pointers guide 

To it alone, heedlefs of all befide ; 

Revolving ever, ftill they never rove 

From out the path that guards the ftar they love. 

So woman's rich afFeftions, pure and true. 

Once gained, will ever fondly cling to you. 

Though all elfe change. Let good or ill betide. 

Faint not, bleft man, an angel's at thy fide ! 

Conftant in death, fhe whifpering points above : 

" Deareft, we'll meet in Heaven, for Heaven is love." 

Think well on this, ye fools that feek to gain 

A fleeting pleafure for an age of pain ! 

'Tis fliort-lived pleafure w^ealth alone can give. 

And happier far, methinks, 'twould be to live 

Poor but contented. Now my tale is told ; 

Go, write it on thy heart, then wed for gold ! 




"I BRING THEE, LOVE, NO 
COSTLY GEMS." 



BRING thcc, love, no coflly gems. 

To decorate thy golden hair, 

•) Frefh flowers are Nature's diadems, — 

Then let them bloom in fragrance there. 



The wave-wafhed Pearl, from ocean caves. 
The Indian Ruby's rofeate dye. 

The Diamond, frozen tear of flaves. 
Were dim befide thy fparkling eye ! 

The Opal, rainbovv-kiffed, may lend 

Frefh charms to many a form lefs bright. 

But jewels, love, would vainly blend 
With thine that afk no borrowed light ! 



I BRING THEE, LoVE. 39 

Then take the Rofe, its funfet hue 

A fleeting bkifli upon thy cheek, — 
The Heliotrope, whofc modeil blue 

Seems ever of thine eyes to fpeak. 

The Lily on thine ivory brow, 

Contrafted with its fnowy white. 
Were dull, — then, love, I pray thee now, 

Enwreathe thy hair with flowers to-night. 




FALSE CHARITY. 

YE ! give your thoufands in an idle caufe. 
Break through your fathers* and your country's 

laws. 
Forget the precepts once fo dearly prized. 

Be all your former principles defpifed ! 

But, while ye drain your hoards for other lands. 

Can ye be bhnd to what your own demands ? 

Can ye o'erlook the many fuffering poor 

Who beg their daily bread from door to door ? 

Pleading the tafk of aiding foreign flaves. 

Deny to them the mite their hunger craves ! 

Bellowing millions on fome project wild, 

Refufe a penny to a famifhed child ! 

All this ye do, vain fools ! — all this, and more ! 

And is it Charity that claims your ftore ? 

Afk yourfclves this ; draw back the mifty vail 

That hides your hearts, — let confcience tell the tale. 



False Chari ty. 41 

Does aught of charity the gold fupply ? 

What, no reiponle ! Wilt give me no reply ? 

Then I will anfwer truly for ye all : 

'Tis Pride ! — the fin that caufed an angel's fall ! 

Tis Pride ! — that hurled a holy fpirit down 

From higheft Heaven, and caufed a God to frown 

On thofe he loved the deareft, bell:, before! 

Oh, fearch your hearts, and gather from your Here 

At leail the crumbs, and give them to the poor. 

'Twas but an hour ago I faw a form 

That dragged fcarce half a body through the llorm, 

'Twixt bending crutches, flowly on his way, 

From doling door and doling door, to pray 

A little aid, to fave his only fon ; 

And unaffifted. Hill he tottered on. 

I know not if 'twas pity bade me fpeak, — 

I could not help it, for he looked fo weak, 

Methought that every Hep would be his laft ; 

He feemed to ftagger in the wintry blaft 

As if he had not llrength to hold him up. 

Poor man ! he mull have drained the biiiter cup 

Of pain and penury e'en to the dregs ! — 

And now — the hardeil pang of all — he begs 

From men of wealth a mite, to fave his boy, — 

Not for himfelf, — no ! fooner far deftroy 

His hated life, and end at once his woe ; 



42 False Charity. 

But for his child he will defcend fo low. 

And cringe to avarice, can he only fave 

His chiefeft joy and bleffing from the grave. 

Lift to the tale he tells ! — Columbians, hear ! 

And for the love of all you hold moft dear. 

Forget it not. — Remember thofe at home. 

Firft give to thefe, then let your pity roam 

O'er all the world ; — chief in your hearts fhould be 

Your country's claims, — not thofe beyond the fea ! 

** Six years ago went up a mighty cry. 

From North and South, of War and Liberty. 

With many thoufands more I took the field, 

Refolved to die or conquer, ne'er to yield ; 

[n many a battle willingly I fhed 

My blood hke rain. A brother left I dead. 

On Cerro Gordo's fanguinary plain ; 

At Cherubufco's fight I ftood again, 

Clofe by another ; he, too, dying, fell 

E'en at my feet ! O God ! I loved him well ! — 

Yet on, ftill on, I prefTed, till — harder lot — 

I, too, fell — wounded by a cruel fhot ; — 

Which left me as you fee, yet killed me not. — 

A helplefs, ufelefs, broken-hearted man. 

At laft I gained my home." Hear this who can. 

And check the blood that mantles o'er your brow : 

His grateful country has forgot him now, — 



False Charity. 43 

His withered laurel has to cyprefs turned ; — 

From ev'ry door the wounded man is fpurned. 

While eager hands throw down the heaps of gold 

Before a felf-made idol, — as of old, ( 

When Ifrael at Jehovah dared to laugh. 

And gave their wealth to build a molten calf. 

But lift the tale : " I gained my native land. 

Maimed, and in want. Of all that ftalwart band 

Who, but a year before, went forth in pride. 

But few remained, — the greater part had died 

Of fell difeafe ; or, on the battle-field. 

Face to the foe. Columbia's fame was fealed 

And figned in blood ! Wives, parents, children, mourn 

Loved ones departed, never to return ! 

Full many a widow welcomed us with tears ; 

Our grateful country welcomed us with cheers, — 

Then gave us — to requite the blood we fhed — 

Medals ! — which we were forced to fell for bread ! 

Aye ! fell for bread ; no other means remained. 

To ftay our hunger. — Medals, bravely gained. 

For food and raiment ! " God, in whom I truft. 

Are fuch things true ? Can it be right or juft 

To aid each ufelefs and chimeric fcheme 

With wafted thoufands ? Strive to fill a ftream 

With drops of water till it flood its banks. 

Repay a friend's devotednefs with thanks j 



44 False Charity. 

Attempt to curb the whirlwind with thine arm ; 
Preach love to tigers, filence to the ftorm, — 
When thefe ye do, 'tis time enough to free 
The fhackled nations by thy charity. 
Begin at home — there's many an obje6l here 
Has claims upon thy bounty, far more near 
Than thofe ye aid fo freely, far more dear 
To every honeft, patriotic heart, — 
Claims that are prefled with no rhetoric art. 
But plead in withered frames, and funken eyes ! 
Delay no longer, left another dies 
Ere ye refolve. Hafte, hafte, the hours fly faft ! 
Though late, determine to be juft, at laft. 




**NEVER DESPAIR." 

^5) EVER defpair ! Prcfs ahead on thy way. 

Fear not though the clouds lower darkling to- 

fzP^ day. 

Fear not though thy heart is encurtained in 
gloom, 
Prefs onward ! To-morrow the funfhine may come. 
The day-ftar is there, and ere long 'twill be fhining. 
The Heavens are blue, then away with repining. 
The pathway before thee, though fteep, is ftill open, 
Prefs on ! though the road may be rugged and broken ; 
You ne'er can replenifh a light purfe with grieving, 
Then let a light heart be the balance relieving ; 
'Twill weigh down the purfe and e'en make you forget it, 
'Twill fill it, perchance, if j-ou only will let it. 
A heart that is light is a true golden treafure. 
For it joys in itfelf, nor looks elfewhere for pleafure. 
'Tis a fun ever fliining on all who arc near it ; 
'Tis a fweet playing lute to whoever may hear it ; 



46 "Never Despair." 

'Tis a mirror refledling all others in gladnefs ; 

'Tis a curtain to hang o'er the dark brow of fadnefs ; 

A diamond that fhines, though furrounded in gloom ; 

A lamp to illumine the mifls of the tomb. 

Never defpair ! Life yet is remaining. 

To give thee frefh chance of the vift'ry obtaining. 

Far, far in the diftance hope beckons thee on. 

Think not of the idle days faded and gone. 

Think not of thy former misfortunes with forrow, 

Refolve to retrieve them to-day and to-morrow. 

Though friends may forfake thee, the cold world be 

frowning, 
Prefs on ! and fuccefs fliall thy efforts be crowning. 
Prefs on ! for the fun in thy fky foon may fet. 
Then wafle not the moments in ufelefs regret ; 
No time now is left to refleft on loft chances. 
Thy Ufe every hour to its ending advances. 
Let all thy tranfaftions be honeft and fair. 
And e'en let thy watchword be, " Never Defpair ! " 




I SAW HER FIRST AMID A 
THRONG." 



SAW her firft amid a throng 

Of gallants brave and ladies fair ; 

Hers was the gayeft, happiell fong — 
She was the brighteft being there. 



A happy fmile played 'round her mouth. 
Like funfhine on a placid lake 

When zephyrs from the funny South 
The golden-dimpled ripples wake. 

I fcarcely dared to afk the name 

Of her who feemed fo fair and bright. 

Yet to my brow the heart-blood came. 
As near me oft flie paffed that night. 



48 "ISawHer First 

We met again, and I had known 
On life's dark ocean many a Ilorm ; 

Full many a year had fvviftly flown, — 
And oh ! how changed that angel form ! 

The hand of Death was on her brow. 
So low her voice fhe fcarce could fpeak ; 

Her hazel eye was funken now. 
And pallid the once rofy cheek, — 

Save where a deep carnation flufli 
Was Ihining ofi the fnowy white; 

I knew it was a flower whofe blufli 
Foretold the quickly coming night. 

'Twas on the rolling deep we met. 
She fought for health a funnier fliore. 

But ere the fecond fun had fet. 
Her pilgrimage of hfe was o'er. 

Yet Hill that happy fmile was there ; 

Cold, heartlefs Death forgot his power. 
And pitying, refolved to fpare 

The beautv of the withered flower. 



Amid A Throng." 49 

Poor girl ! alas, no tree fhall wave 
Its drooping branches o'er thy head. 

For fathomlefs the ocean grave 

Where thou waft calmly, ladly laid. 

No love-fown flower e'er fhall bloom 
Above the fpot where thou doft fleep ; 

No fculptured ftone fliall mark thy tomb. 
For friends to wander there and weep. 

Yet many a heart enflirines thee ftill. 

And many a thought and tear are given. 

While hopes, rich hopes, each bofom fill. 
To meet thy angel foul in Heaven. 

I faw her once again in dreams. 

And very oft thofe dreams return ; 
An angel all of light fhe feems. 

And, fmihng, bids me ceafe to mourn. 

She points her finger toward the ikies, 

And bids me look in faith above. 
Seek there a Bride that never dies, 

A heaven of unending love. 
3 



50 "I Saw Her First." 

Yes, angel, yes ! though diftant far 

From friends, and home, and all I ftray. 

Thou art the radiant Beacon ftar 

That guides my wavering, wandering way. 




THE FORSAKEN. 

FEEL no more thy cruel art. 

And bid adieu with tearlefs eye ; 
I cannot free again my heart. 
But I can let it break and die. 
Perchance I e'en Ihall ftrive to fmile. 

When thou art to another wed ; 
But I implore thee, wait awhile. 
Nor claim thy bride till I am dead. 

I thought not thus the dream would end,- 

Oh, 'twas a hard and bitter waking ! 
But ceale thy falfenefs to defend. 

Go and forget the heart now breaking. 
The evening fun may rife to-morrow. 

The parting fhip return to fhore, 
Alas my hopes have fet in forrow. 

Have fet to rife a9;ain no more. 




OUR FATHERS. 

ONG time they bore oppreffion uncomplained. 
Long time, till tyranny defpotic reigned. 
Till they could bear no longer, and they prayed 
Unto the God of battles for His aid. 
And then they all in folemn concert fwore. 
Never to reft until from out their fhore. 
They'd cleanfed the ftain that o'er it like a pall 
Of death and blacknefs hung, and till through all 
The length and breadth of their loved land the rays 
Of Liberty's bright funfhine drove the haze 
And dark cloud of oppreffion o'er the main. 
Back to proud Albion's fhores in hafte again. 
And as the prairie when the firebrand 
Has touched its border, fo o'er all the land. 
When once the torch of liberty was fired. 
The flames quick ran along unquenched, untired. 



OurFathers. 53 

Then men, their country's ornament and pride. 
For freedom fought and bled, for freedom died. 
To cleanfe Columbia of that tyrant band. 
The ploughman left the ploughfhare, feized the brand. 
The ftatefman for the gun, the pen religned ; 
And young and old, and rich and poor combined. 
Left home and firelide for the battle-field, 
Refolved to die or conquer, ne'er to yield ; 
Refolved to drive the oppreffbr from the land : 
And though but few, that brave, undaunted band 
0'ercam£ the tyrant in his llrength and might. 
And conquered, for their caufe was juft and right. 
That prayer for aid was anfwered, they fuftained. 
By God's afliflance. Independence gained. 
And left to us, whofe proudeft boaft fhould be — 
Our fathers died to fet their country free. 




THE FUTURE. 

HE dim and ihadowy Future ! — who can fay 
What is the Future ? Not one fmgle day 
Canil: thou, O mortal, fcan the great ** To 
Come ! " 
We know the grave muil be our final home 
Upon this earth, and that is all we know ; 
Along the pail: we look — as o'er the fnow 
The weary traveller, turning, views each mark 
His foot has made diftinft ; — but through the dark 
Unknown Futurity, thou canft not peer. 
Believe ! Make Hope thy guide, and let her cheer 
Thy onward way ; look upward to thy God, 
Nor llrive to look beyond ! — And when the fod 
Covers the clay that now confines thy foul. 
His hand fhall guide thee to the wifhed-for goal ! 
frufting in Him alone ; learn from the Pafl 
To fhun the fnares that fm would 'round thee caft ; 



The Future. 55 

Make of thy former life a well-read book, — 

Infcribe it on thy heart, that thou mayfl look 

Upon its page whene'er thy footileps Ilray ; 

Make it a finger-poft to point the way 

That thou muft follow ! — Read the Pall aright, — 

'Twill be a beacon in the darkeft night. 

To light the narrow path that thou fhouldft tread; 

The Pail is for the living, not the dead ! 

See yonder monument that towers on high ! 
'Tis not alone to tell the pafler by 
Some patriot, fage, or hero, lies beneath. 
For whom 'twas raifed. And for the laurel wreath 
What cares the dead ? He cannot fee it now ; 
He cannot wear upon his worm-feared brow 
The marble chaplet that is chifelled here 
Upon the llone ; or feel the grateful tear 
We drop upon the flower that bloflbms o'er 
His lifelefs form. His boat is launched from fliore 
Upon that fathomlefs and unknown fea — 
The boundlefs ocean of Eternity ! 
Come ; read with me the epitaph, — 'twill ipeak 
Volumes of richell teachings. Let us feek 
To know the reafon why fuch coflly pile 
Tells of the dead. What ! Cynic, doll thou fmile — 
As if the grave-yard could no leflbn tell 
To fuch as thee ? — Go thou, and read it well ; 



56 TheFuture. 

'Grave every epitaph upon thy heart, 

'Twill make thee happier, wifer, than thou art. 

Read this : ** He was a good and honefl: man ; " 

Read, aye, and emulate him, if you can, — 

'' He loved his country, and for her he died." 

Is there no leflbn here ? See, far and wide. 

Your country torn by faftion, and for what f 

Oh ! have ye all {o fpcedily forgot 

The fea of holy blood your Fathers flied ? 

Tear down your monuments, difcntomb your dead. 

Scatter their afhes to the winds of Heaven ! 

Revile their names, and ye may be forgiven, — 

But, the great Fabric they ereded, fpare ! 

Forbear ! — deluded Fools ! In time, forbear ! 

Once fevered, ye can never more unite 

The glorious chain your Fathers forged fo bright ! 

Break but one link and every hope is gone, — 

Not e'en the ftrongeft State can ftand alone ! 

What ! fhall our flag — the banner of the free — 

Be furled forever o'er the boundlefs fea ! 

And wave no more in glory o'er the land ? 

Say, would ye on your Fathers' memory brand 

The damning tale that they fo bravely fought, 

Through long, long years, and bled and died for naught ? 

Wouldft rend afunder every well-known llripe ! — 

Blot out each ftar ? Vile Traitors ! would ye wipe 



TheFuture 57 

From ofF the book of Nations what has been, — 

The noblelt page that book has ever fcen, — 

And give one only Ilripe to every State — 

One only rtar ? Paufc, ere it be too late ! 

Think what ye do ! Look backward o'er the Pall, — 

Read there thy country's welfare, — bind her fall 

In loving bonds of Union ! let the fun 

Of Liberty its courfe of glory run. 

Columbia ! — My loved country, rife again 

From thy debafement ! Wafh away the Ilain 

That fullies the bright radiance of thy face ! 

Curfed be thy fons that would their land difgrace ! 

Still may thy glorious Ilandard float unfurled. 

Ever the pride and glory of the world ! 



3* 




THE TEMPLE OF WAR, AND THE 
TEMPLE OF PEACE. 

ARK ! to the fhout that wakes the Eallern world ! 

The flag of battle is again unfurled. 

From Albion's fnow-white cliffs, from Gallia's 
plain. 

See fteel-clad warriors preffing o'er the main ; 
From gallant navies floating, fee advance 
St. George's ftandard and the flag of France, 
Foemen for ages, now as fi-iends they fight. 
Their mutual war-cry, " God defend the right ! " 
Hark ! how with ftarthng clang and horrid jar. 
All ruiled o'er by peace, the iron bar 
That clofed the gates of Janus falls to earth. 
From its wide portals opened haften forth 
The turbaned Moflem, and a hoft of fpears 
From Danube'? bank, and giant cuirafliers. 



Temple of War and Peace. 59 

Mounted on coal-black Heeds of Norman blood. 

Champing the bit impatient. Now the road 

Shakes 'neath the wheels of a long rumbling train 

From Strafbourg's arfenal. A martial ftrain 

Comes floating on the breeze ; then haften on 

A holl of bearded CoiTacks of the Don ; 

" God and our Church ! " their watchword. Next 

appear 
The unarmed millions, betwixt hope and fear. 
Straining their fetters, burning to be free. 
And eager to revenge long years of tyranny. 
But all in vain the eye effays to fcan 
The countlefs throng, though foremoft in the van. 
And mingling here and there along the line. 
The Crefcent and the Crofs their folds entwine 
In loving union. Wondrous fight to fee, 
Chriftian and Turk arrayed in harmony 
Againft a Chriftian foe, whofe hated thrall 
Is fraught with equal danger to them all ! 

The vifion changes, and with glad furprife. 
Another pifture greets our wond'ring eyes ; 
Another temple's gates are oped to-day. 
And to its portals flock a long array 
Of peaceful warriors, ftrugghng to be firft 
In every art and fcience. They have nurfed 



6o Templf of War and Peace. 

Full many an infant thought, till it has grown 
A thing of good to all ; men who have known 
What 'twas to fight and win — a noble band. 
From diftant climes and our dear native land. 
Through the long galleries and aifles we fcan 
The inventive power and mafter-mind of man ; 
Lift to the bufy fpindles' ceafelefs hum. 
Singing a fong of peace ! The gorgeous loom 
Sufpends on every fide with laviili hand 
The trophies of a battle far more grand 
Than viftory ever fmiled on. Here we find 
The bloodlefs conquefts of the immortal mind ; 
The embodied toil of thoufands here we view. 
Showing what heads can plan and hands can do. 
Each art has lent its proudeft works to grace 
And fcatters gems of beauty o'er the place : 
The fields, the woods, the flocks, the fea, the mine. 
Their varied gifts beftow, and all combine 
To pleafe and to inftruft. Raife high the ftrain. 
And let the dome reecho back again 
Our fong of triumph for the ftruggle paft. 
For trials o'er, fuccefs achieved at laft ! 




A COMETARY. 



YSTERIOUS flranger, Harding each flar- 
gazer ! 

Oh, moil ex-orb-itant ccleftial blazer ! 

Tell me, I pray, of your fidereal flatus : 
Belong you to the poffe comet- atus 
Of heavenly fpheres, enrolled to keep the peace — 
i^'Argo" a member of the Golden Fleece ?) 
But ftars no longer ferve in the police. 
So this can't be. I think I've found you out : 
You've been tale-bearing 'mid the ftars, no doubt. 
Or, much the fame, perchance in Leflie's pay. 
You've been illumining the Milky Way. 
Have you made Jupiter of Juno jealous ? 
Earth wants enlightening, fo in Latin tellus^ 
Qiiae fit cometa nemo fibi forte, 
Contentus eji? Evenit faepe fort^. 



62 ACOMETARY. 

A parallax of rupees for an anfwer. 

By Gemini, explain it if you Cancer ! 

Have you been ferenading female ftars ? 

To the intenfe difguft of pa's and Mars, 

Who think your fparking round a bafe intrufion. 

Your kiiTes but elliptical delufion ? 

It may be you've eclipfed that thieviih hero. 

And fome cold night fent Mercury towards Zero. 

Or, did you wink at Venus and enrage her — 

At leaft you're pointed at by Urfa Major. 

Don't hope to parje me with your declination, 

I'm bent 'm-tenfe-\y on an explanation. 

You cannot hide, as through the heavens you fail ; 

That you're a ilar, and thereby hangs a tale. 

I've Saturn hour waiting for your flory. 

Though non-Comet-al, be ex-planet-ory . 

I fear you've rifen above your proper ftation. 

By mean attradion gained your elevation. 

For ioms. Jpecijic caufe affumed your gravity ; 

I fee both through yourfelf and your depravity. 

Why thus perfifl in fuch eccentric courfes ? 

Are they internal or external forces 

That guide your aftions as through fpace you roll ? 

Do you revolve on a magnetic pole 

Like this fame world of ours ? I hope I axis 

A proper queftion, for belief it taxes 



ACOMETARY. 63 

To think you wander in this courfe erratic 
Without plane reafon. Are youfyflematic 
In what you do ? There now, you're out of fight 
Without fo much as bidding me good night. 
That's very rude, but yet I gather from it. 
You mean to tell me that I cannot comet. 




THE SEXTON. 



E who refleds on 
The trade of a fexton, 
Doubtlefs will agree 
'Tis of any calling 
The mofl appalling. 
That poffibly can be. 

Air crematical. 
Emblematical 

Of his mournful trade. 
Voice funereal. 
Half minifterial. 

Half a ring of the fpade. 



TheSexton. 65 

At font baptifmal. 
Not as yet difmal. 

He takes his wonted place. 
Sedately liftening 
To every chrillening 

With kind, paternal face. 

Next at the wedding. 
Moil proudly treading. 

Seeming their joy to fhare. 
With beaming fmile. 
Along the aifle. 

He ufhers the happy pair. 

To each phyfician 

He bows with fubmiffion. 

And hands a black-edged card; 
" If it comes in your way, fir, 
A word pleafe fay, fir. 

For me : the times are hard. 

'* We're both of a trade — 
Scalpel and fpade 

Follow each other faft ; 
When you get through, fir. 
My work I'll do, fir. 

And trull me it will lail. 



66 TheSexton. 

"Shrouds, coffins, hearfes. 
To fuit all purfes, 

With gloves that never fit. 
If you don't like black 
I'll take them back 

In trade ; don't mention it." 

He looks around him 
As if, confound him. 

He dares not fay aloud : 
" 'Twill give me pleafure 
To take your meafure 

And order for a fhroud." 

Black gloves his hands on 
When he ftands on 

Ceremonial gloom ; 
Head uncovered. 
As if he hovered 

Still at the door of the tomb. 

His eyes half clofmg. 
Not as if dozing. 

Standing by to drop. 
With meafured dallies. 
The duft and alhes. 

Upon the coffin top. 



TheSexton. 67 

He has his place 
In life's long race 

From firft to lateft breath. 
You'll find at laft. 
Run flow or fail. 

He's fure to be in at the death. 

"Who'll be the next on 

My books?" cries the fexton ; 

"Ready by day or night; 
Give me a call, fir — 
Sign of the Pall, fir ; 

Ring the fmall bell at the right." 




A SERENADE. 

HE filver orb of night 
Is fliining mild above, 
A fitting torch to light 
The holy hour of love. 
Then, deareft, wake ! 
For o'er the lake 
Thy lover flies to meet thee, — 
While to his oar 
The anfwering fliore 
Sends echo back to greet thee. 

Lift ! how amid the trees 
In heavenly murmur fighs 

The love-fong of the breeze. 
And every leaf replies. 



A S E R E N A D E . 69 

Then, love, let fleep. 

No longer keep 
Thofe bright eyes from thy lover, — 

But lend their light ^ 

To glad the night. 
Ere night's fweet reign is over. 

Lift ! how upon the ftrand 

The rippling wavelets break ; 
They whifper to the land 
The love-tale of the lake. 

An hour like this 

Is made for bHfs, 
Oh, leave me not forfaken, — 

Below, above. 

All, all is love. 
Then 'waken, love, awaken ! 




NAIL OUR FLAG TO THE MAST. 



AIL our flag to the mail ! while the bunting is 
new, 
^^ And our fliip in the roadftead lies ready for 

failing. 
Her rigging is ftrong, and her compafs is true. 

And we fear not the foe or the tempells prevailing. 
Her keel was well laid. 
Her mails are well flayed. 
And of live Yankee oak every timber is made ; 
Then wooed by the zephyr or rent by the blaft. 
We'll fteer on our courfe with flag nailed to the mall. 



Nail our flag to the maft, ere the breaking of day. 
To catch the firil: beam of the fun at its rifing ; 

Then our fails flieeted home, and the anchor aweigh. 
We'll ftart from the land, every danger defpifing. 



Nail our Flag to the Mast. 71 

Though the fierce tempell: wrack 

Follow fall on our track. 
Right onward we'll prefs, nor at danger look back ; 
And over the billow our bark fhall Ry faft. 
With the ilars and the ftripes firmly nailed to the maft. 

Nail our flag to the^iail ! then blow high or blow low. 

Come funfhine or ftorm, ftill that banner fo peerlefs 
Shall wave o'er our heads as right onward we go. 

For our feamen are ftanch and our captain is fearlefs. 
Though in fhreds every fail 
Shall be rent by the gale. 
Not a heart fhall defpond, not a cheek fhall turn pale; 
But we'll work with a will till the danger is paft. 
We're fafe, come what may, with flag nailed to the mafl. 

Nail our flag to the mall ! that all nations may know 

It floats over freemen who'll ever defend it. 
Will ne'er haul it down, though overwhelming the foe. 
Though the fmoke may enfliroud, though the war hail 
may rend it. 
When the fmoke clears away 
At the clofe of the fray. 
Our flag, though in tatters, we'll proudly difplay 
And e'en though we fmk, ftill unconquered at laft. 
We'll fmk 'neath the wave with flag nailed to the maft. 



72 



Nail our Flag to the Mast. 

Nail our flag to the mail ! 'Tis the flag of the free. 

While the deeds of our fathers are hallowed in ftory. 
Our llandard a terror to tyrants fliall be. 
To freemen a beacon of honor and glory. 
Spite of wind and of rain. 
On its folds not a ftain. 
Our flag fliall untarniflied forever remain ; 
In peace or in war, from the iirft to the laft. 
Dear country, fpeed on, with flag nailed to the mall. 

Nail our flag to the mail ! In the morning of youth. 

Ere the fky of our life is o'erclouded by forrow. 
Make Honor our watchword, our beacon-liar Truth ; 
Let defeat for to-day teach fuccefs for to-morrow. 
Thus true to the end. 
When humbly we bend 
Our knee, and look upward in fearch of a friend. 
We'll find one aloft ever conilant and fail 
To the man who through life nails his flag to the mail. 




SPRING TIME. 

PRING time is coming, all laden with flowers. 
Spreading her mantle of green o'er the bowers. 
The lark, high in air, is beginning to fmg 
Her fong of rejoicing, to welcome the Spring. 
Brooks are flowing. 
Life bellowing. 
Lovely Nature feems to fling 
All her charms. 
With willing arms. 
In the lap of blooming Spring. 



Silver-haired Winter before her is flying. 
In the depths of the valley unwept he is dying, — 
Save the tears of compaflion that pity may wring 
From the bright eyes of April— the infant of Spring. 
4 



74 



Spring Time. 

Birds arc mating, 

Blifs relating. 
In each tuneful ftrain they fing ; 

Haftc, then, dearcft ! 

Love fcems ncareft, 
Holieft, brighteft, in the Spring. 




THE YACHTMAN'S SONG. 

WAKE, boys, awake ! 'Tis the dawning of day, 
The fignal is flying, and we muft away ; 
The breeze is fall lifting the mills from the fea, 
And, Hke fmoke-wreaths, they're drifting away 
on our lee. 
Quick, loofe all your fails, let the halyards be manned. 
And hoill away brifkly, boys, hand over hand ; 
Now jump to the windlafs, belay, boys, belay ! 
Heave hard, now flie breaks, and the anchor's away. 
Then pafs round the bottle, a bumper we'll drain ; 
Fill high every goblet with foaming champagne ; 
And aye, as we drink, boys, our toall it fliall be — 
The girls that we love, and a life on the fea. 

A hand by the helm, up the jib, aft the flieet ; 
The wind is ahead, down the bay we muft beat. 
But we'll fkim o'er the wave, in the eye of the gale, 
While the fpray dafhcs high in the luff of our fail. 



']6 The Yachtman's Song. 

Keep her clofe to the wind, we arc ncaring the fhore. 
And, hark, on the flrand how the loud breakers roar. 
Quick ready about, put your helm hard a-lee ; 
Let fly your jib-fheet, round flic comes merrily. 
Then pafs round the bottle, &c., &c. 

See, fee, boys, the wind is beginning to veer ; 
Eafe off every fheet, on our courfe we can fleer ; 
Get your fquare-fail acrofs, on your main boom a guy. 
Hurrah, boys, hurrah, like a fea-bird we fly. 
The wind blows more frefti, and the ftorm-fcud flies low. 
Quick, reef every fail, the mall bends like a bow. 
Our gallant craft heeds not, though tempells may rave. 
And the lightning with plumes tip the caps of the wave. 
Then pafs round the bottle, &c., &c. 

At laft, boys, the long wiflied for haven we near ; 
Our friends on the fliore greet our gun with a cheer ; 
The anchor let go, flow fwing round to the tide. 
Furl the fails, coil the ropes, and fecurely we ride. 
Three cheers for our yacht, boys, three cheers for our 

crew. 
Three cheers for our flag, boys, the red, white, and blue ; 
Three cheers for our club, boys, and as for the reft. 
Hurrah, boys, hurrah for the girls we love beft. 
Then pafs round the bottle, &c., &c. 




SAM. 

H, my name it is Sam, and my Uncle, d'ye fee. 
Is known very well to the world far and near, — 
For he's broad and he's long. 
And he's tough and he's llrong. 

And he never does wrong. 

And he never knows fear. 

He grows very fall, does my Uncle, d'ye fee. 
Though but a child yet, ne'er a giant's as tall. 
And he's bound to expand 
O'er the fea and the land. 
And he'll ne'er flop his hand. 
Till he's gathered it all. 

He never fays die, does my Uncle, d'ye fee. 
Ne'er knows when he's whipped, for he never was 
taught it. 



78 Sam., 

And when he is rights 

He'll continue to fight 

Through the day, through the night. 

Till the foeman has caught it. 

He's a regular brick, is my Uncle, d'ye fee. 

And he's bid all the world to his boundlefs pofleffions. 

Both the fmall and the great. 

So I fear it's too late 

To lluit down the gate. 

And fhut out their aggreffions. 




TEDDY O'MURPHY. 

AM Teddy O'Murphy by name. 

My afFeftions will yet be the death of me, — 
From the County of Kerry I came. 

For 'twas there that I firft drew the breath 
of^me. 
I've a fondnefs for fweet mountain dew, 

'A weaknefs for backy, Fm thinking. 
For plenty of nothing to do. 

Save conflantly eating and drinking. 

My afFedlions I place on the fex. 

Whenever I have opportunity ; 
And I'd like very well to annex 

That part of the Mormon community. 



8o Teddy O'Murphy. 

Who my firfl fweetheart was, I forget, — 
'Twas Kate Dennis or Peggy O'Brien, — 

The one is a fpinfler as yet. 

The other ran ofF with Pat Ryan. 

I next courted Molly McGce, 

And I fwear that I loved her diflraftedly ; 
But I quickly got tired, you fee. 

The courting went on fo protradledly. 
My next flame was Bridget O'Toole, 

And flic was the hoighth of benignity. 
But flie handled a three-legged fl:ool 

In a way that offended my dignity. 

Now Bridget is Miftrefs O'Flynn, 

Kate Dennis is Widow O'Mopperty, 
With three flirapping girls and one twin. 

While Peggy's another man's property. 
But there's fifli as good left in the fea. 

If a man only knows how to capture them 
And the girls are all waiting for me, — 

Och, Teddy's the boy to enrapture them. 




SONGS, ETC., FROM RIP VAN 
WINKLE. 

Chorus of Spirits. 

jVENING is falling o'er meadow and lea. 
Flinging its Ihadow o'er rock and o'er tree ; 
Clouds too are rifing to darken the fcene. 
Veiling the heavens where ftars fhould be feen ; 
At fuch a time, 'tis ours to come 
From the portals of the tomb. 
From our far off fpirit home. 
Whether it be 
Beneath the fea. 
Or whether we lay- 
In grave yard clay. 
Then gather ! gather ! gather ! 

Spirits of the dead ; 
Gather ! gather ! gather ! 

From your grafs-grown bed ; 
4* 



82 Songs, etc., from 

Gather from the well-filled graves 

Dotting hill and plain; 
Gather from the ocean caves 

Where ye long have lain 
'Neath the waves. 

The ftorm King now marflials his legions on high. 

On the wings of the lightning he rides through the fky ; 

Lift to the thunder, that bellows afar, 

*Tis the found of the wheels of his terrible car; 

Summoned every twentieth year. 

When the leaf falls yellow and fere. 

Brother fpirits we muft gather here. 

Come from the hills ! 

Come from the rills ! 

Come from the graves ! 

Come from the waves ! 

Then gather, gather, gather 
'Neath the lightnings bright ; 

Gather, gather, gather 
With us here to-night ; 

Gather on the mountain fide. 
Let us merry be. 

Make them echo far and wide 
With our jolUty 

At even tide. 



RipVan Winkle. 83 



Song. 



The day is done. 

The fetting fun 
Has faded in the weft ; 

The ftars of night 

Are fhining bright. 
The birds are gone to reft. 

Then brothers dear. 

Come gather here. 
Each anxious thought refign ; 

We'U drink the fair. 

And drown all care 
In the fparkling tears of the vine. 

We'll banifti gloom 

Till morning come ; 
Though clouds of forrow lower. 

Your goblet fill. 

And every ill 
Shall own its magic power. 

This night Ihall glee 

Triumphant be. 



84 Songs, etc., from 

And rofy wreaths entwine. 
To crown the bowl. 
And glad the foul 

In the fparkling tears of the vine. 

Till death draws near. 
We'll gather here. 

And quaff the cup of gladnefs ; 
Though fortune frown. 
In wine we'll drown. 

Ere breathed, the figh of fadnefs. 
And when at length. 
With fading flrength. 

Our life we mull refign. 
To mem'ries paft. 
We'll drink our laft. 

In the fparkling tears of the vine. 



Ballad. 

When circled round in youth's glad fpring 
With friends we love and hearts we prize. 

When buds of hope are bloflbming. 
And all feems bright as fummer fkies. 



Rip Van Winkle. 85 

Sweet birds fing out from bufh and fpray 

While gayly pafs the fleeting hours. 
As down the path of life we llray, 

We leave the thorns, but pluck the flowers. 

But all too foon the fpring is gone. 

And hope with youth and fpring departs ; 
The winter winds life's path have ftrown 

With withered leaves and withered hearts. 
And though in mem'ry oft we tread 

Along the joyous pafl again. 
We weep for friends and flowers all dead. 

Sorrow and thorns alone remain. 



Prayer, 

Protefting power, on thee I call ; 

To thee for aid I humbly pray ; 
Surrounding fears my heart appall. 

Which thou alone canft drive away. 
My finking Ipirit has no guide. 

Save thee alone, and only thee ; 
I am bereft of all befide ; 

Protefting power, oh pity me. 



86 Songs, etc., from 

Low before thy footftool bending. 
Hear the humble prayer afcending ! 
God of battles thou defending, 

Vift'ry fhall our conflidl crown. 
By the tears of widows weeping ! 
By the blood of freemen fleeping ! 
Take our country to thy keeping ! 

On thy fuppliants. Lord, look down. 



Chorus. 

God of battles, hear our prayer ! 

Low before thy throne we bow ; 
Shield us 'neath thy guardian care. 

Lift our fupplications now ! 

God of battles, aid our land ! 

Save us in this trying hour. 
Support the felf-devoted band 

From oppreffion's mighty power. 

God of battles, hear our vow ! 

Be it regiftered on high ; 
We will free our country now. 

Or unconquered bravely die ! 



Rip V A N W INKLE. 87 



Song, 

Come, gather round, my comrades brave. 

And fill each goblet high ; 
One moment let us turn away 

From thoughts of battle nigh. 
And as we each our goblet drain. 

Let memory remind us. 
And give a tear to thofe fo dear. 

The friends we've left behind us. 

Then be the toall " To abfent friends ! " 

And let the cup run o'er. 
For we, perchance, may never hear 

Their loving voices more. 
To-morrow dying on the field. 

The fetting fun may find us ; 
But we fhall fall, beloved by all 

The friends we've left behind us. 



88 Songs, ETC., FROM 



Camp Song. 

Hurrah for the life the foldier leads, 
When he fights in his country's caufe ; 

His fword, the only friend he needs. 
At Freedom's call he draws. 

When the weary march of the day is done. 
We halt and encamp for the night 

By fome river's fide, where the fetting fun 
Gilds the llream with its dying light. 

Wc pitch our tents 'neath the fp reading trees. 

And light our cheerful fires ; 
To whofe flame the circling infc6l flees. 

And, kifling its death, expires. 

We ftation the watch, left the foe fliould come 
While the worn-out camp repofes ; 

Then we gather in groups and talk of home. 
Till the tired eyehd clofes. 

With the fun we rife, then away we fpced. 

And ere long are in the battle ; 
On the foe we prefs, and little heed 

Dcath-fliots that round us rattle. 



Rip Van Winkle. 

At beat of drum, when the fight is done. 
We count our leflened number — 

And we join in the fhout for battle won, 
A tear for the brave who flumber. 



Chorus. 

Spread our banners to the wind. 

For our glorious tafk is done ; 

Chains no more Columbia bind. 

Freedom's fons have fought and won. 
Our ftarry flag waves proudly o'er us. 
Days of peace rife bright before us. 
Echo anfwers back the chorus. 
Union, Freedom, Wafliington. 

Weep not for the brave who died — 
In their country's caufe they fell : 

Let the tears of grief be dried — 
In their country's heart they dwell. 

They have gained immortal glory. 

Theirs is an undying llory ; 

Smiling youth and grandfire hoary. 

Of their glorious deeds fliall tell. 



90 Rip Van Winkle. 



Ballad. 

Alone, all alone, in this vide world of forrow. 
No kind friend to comfort, no children to cheer, 

No joy for to-day and no hope for to-morrow. 
And gone is each heart that I ever held dear. 

All the friends of my youth one by one have departed — 
The tomb-flones repeat the fad tale that they died ; 

My wife, too, is gone, and ere long, broken-hearted, 
I fliall tranquil repofe in the grave by her Ude. 

Ah, say, arc there none that will greet me with gladnefs r 
Are there none to remind me of happy days pail ? 

No, all, all are gone that would grieve at my fadncfs — 
Then welcome the tomb that receives me at laft. 









I 



- ■ ' ■ ' '/■■"i'.'r ' , '•'i 



# 




